A new Marine officer

Yesterday, I attended the commissioning ceremony for a newly minted second lieutenant in the United States Marines.  It was a moving and inspiring experience, and I’m glad my son was there to witness it.

The reason I was there goes back more than thirty years.  As I might have mentioned before, on the “real me” facebook, I’ve discovered that the people who were my closest friends in high school are the ones with whom I now have the least in common.  They’re all ultimate, knee-jerk liberals, who still hate Bush and who worship the entire Obama package.  The flip side of this slightly depressing discovery is that I’ve reconnected at a much deeper level with some high school classmates who were just friends, rather than best friends.  These are the people who have learned, as I have, that old-fashioned values and small government are an excellent way to live a life and run a country.

A few weeks, I met up for lunch with one of those friends.  It was the first time we’d seen each other in more than thirty years.  My only complaint about the meeting is that she hasn’t aged.  Frankly, that’s just not fair.  Other than that, she was everything I remembered:  lovely, intelligent, competent, and interesting.  Her daughters take after her.  Both are lovely, both are intelligent, both are competent, and both are interesting.  The older one also lives life at warp speed.  While the others are walking, she is running; while they’re sleeping, she is honing her skills at whatever interests her; while they’re talking, she’s singing.

The older daughter long ago realized that she wanted to be a Marine Corps flier, and she made that happen.  She went to officer’s training and didn’t merely graduate, she was the top graduate in her program.  In other words, a most impressive young woman.

When my high school classmate heard that my son, since he was two years old, has been committed to becoming a Marine (although he sees that as a mere stopping point on his way to becoming a SEAL), she said “Why don’t you come to the commissioning ceremony?”  I was dubious at first, since I didn’t know her daughter at all.  My friend assured me I wouldn’t be de trop, and I eventually concluded that my son and I, supportive of the military as we are (and especially of our Navy and Marine forces), wouldn’t be particularly out of place. As it happened, although he and I both felt a bit like interlopers, since we hadn’t seen this delightful young woman grow up, both of us were so glad we shared in the experience.

It was, to begin with, a very happy room.  Even though I knew only my old friend (and my son knew only me), it was a pleasure to see so many happy faces.  My son was also delighted that he was breathing the same air as a Captain, a Staff Sergeant, and several First and Second Lieutenants, all in dress uniform.  (It turned out there was another Lieutenant there but, as he was in mufti, my son was unimpressed.)

The ceremony itself was short, but oh so sweet.  The newly minted Second Lieutenant came in for remarkably consistent praise:  hard working, enthusiastic, deeply committed to the Marine Corps and to personal excellence, a true asset to the service, etc.  My son came away with the strong impression that the Marines are a place for the best and brightest.

What was clear from the speeches that the young Marines gave was that they deeply admire the service they’ve elected to join.  They feel honored to be part of “the world’s biggest fraternity.”  They watch each others’ backs, and they watch America’s back.  Rather than seeing this as an onerous burden, they believe it’s a privilege.  Seeing these young people gives one hope.  As long as America can still produce people in their teens and twenties who don’t shy away from danger or hard work, who embrace discipline and responsibility, and who love their country, we must be doing something right.

So, congratulations Second Lieutenant K.C., of the United States Marine Corps!  I know you feel lucky to have become a part of the fraternity, but I also know that the fraternity is lucky to have you.